On the Eve of 27.

I love my birthday. I always have, and I always will. Despite what my immediate family members might tell you, I am not OBSESSED with it and I don't think I force it upon anyone, but I do enjoy celebrating things and I love special days and I really love presents, so all in all, birthdays are pretty great.

This is the first year that I've looked at my new age and thought anything besides "Yay! A year older!" Despite the fact that I am nearing 30, honestly getting older doesn't bother me that much. I feel like because I look so young, I get more joy with telling people how wrong they are when they guess my age and they're WAY off. It's a secret (not anymore) pleasure of mine. People routinely think I'm 18, so when I mention the fact that I'm actually in my late twenties, I feel a weird joy in them being wrong.

The reason I've been feeling a little differently about this age, this year is that not only does 27 just sound much older than 26, but it feels like yet another year of unknown. When my Granddaddy was 25, my dad was born. When my dad was 25, I was born. I was sort of hoping to continue that silly little age gap thing because I love things like that, and also because when I was 23, I lost my first baby, so it seemed pretty reasonable to be pregnant again by the time I was 25. Two weeks after my 25th birthday though, I lost my third pregnancy.

It isn't about the age so much as it is the time that's going by. I got married young. I would have loved to have babies fairly young (I technically am fairly young still but in the eyes of my life-gameplan I am not). I'm 27. I've been married almost 6 years, and I don't have any kids. It feels weird that this is my life. It feels strange that I'm still in this place, nearly four years later than I thought I'd be.

The lessons I've learned in the past few years as I've lived in this season have been so valuable. Had I not known what it was like to grieve, I would not know God in the way I do now. I am thankful for that. I am thankful to have tasted the bitterness, because God's grace has been so sweet. I cannot deny, however, that it is difficult. I'm living a life that's really great, but it isn't a life that's anything like I thought I'd have, and that's hard. It's hard to know that as each day passes, that's one day more of mystery.

Twenty-seven in itself is a pretty unremarkable age. It's one year older, one day further along the road. Ten years ago, birthdays just felt a lot more special.

It isn't the big occasions that count the most though. It's the days. It's the moments that happen each and every day that will mark 27 as a good year or a bad one. I'd love to say that this will be a good year if my wishes are granted and we bring a baby into this world in my 27th year, but the truth is that it will probably be a perfectly fine year either way. It will probably pass as a year with unexpected events, unique memories, and both good and bad, just like most years seem to pass.

I think that this year will be a good one. I think I'll probably get to surprise lots of people with that fact that - surprise! - I'm actually almost 10 years older than you think I am. I think there will be lots of change. I think that I will grow in my relationship with Carson. I think good things will happen and bad things will happen. I think we'll begin good habits, break bad ones, and celebrate small moments like they're big ones like we always have.

I pray most of all that this 27th year (technically 28th year but that sounds confusing) will be one where I don't forget that God is good. I hope that I don't lose sight of the fact that He knows what's going on and that while to me I feel alone or forgotten or sad, to Him, beautiful things are taking place. I have a quote from GK Chesterton that I like that says "One sees great things from the valley; only small things from the peak". I don't want to focus so much on the beauty of motherhood that I miss the beauty of where He has me now. I don't want 27 or any other year to be so wrapped up in that one thing that I totally lose out on whatever it is He has in store according to His plan.

Here's to another year!

On Smells.

One of the strangest things about me, in my opinion, is my sense of smell. It's always been so incredibly strong that there are certain things in the morning (bananas in particular) that I cannot be near. I always smell milk before pouring it, even if I pour it again later. I smell books. At work, I know that certain customers are in the store without looking up because I smell them.

Carson, poor guy, has to deal with this on a daily basis. I'll wake up in the morning and know that we need to empty the garbage that's in the kitchen downstairs.
This is an actual conversation:
"You ate onions today". "No I didn't, I had them for lunch yesterday!" "Well, I smell them!" And I do... it's really that crazy. Had I been a dog and not a human, I could have done some serious tracking down of dangerous criminals.

(I don't know why I drew that conclusion either)

Going along with this, and certainly a more normal thing: for years, certain scents have brought back memories, good, bad and random.

I'll walk into a place, sniff and think about the place where my cousin, sister and I took art classes when I was six. I couldn't tell you what the place looked like, but I think the smell has something to do with a paper mache thing we made.

A certain lotion (it was this one) reminds me of my first semester in Spokane. Burnt food reminds me of a certain roommate (as does the sound of smoke alarms, but that's another story). 

There's a scent that reminds me of my first year in Ukraine: the smell of the body spray Kristine used. Other smells that remind me of Ukraine include the smell of cows (driving through Iowa brought back those memories vividly), diesel fuel, and candle wax... 

Saltwater reminds me of home. Even the eggy, pluff mud smell brings back good memories. 

It didn't occur to me until recently that maybe there was a tie between my sense of smell and one of my favorite passages, Second Corinthians 2:14-17. I'll type it out in case you don't know it:

But thanks be to God, who always leads us in triumph in Christ, and manifests through us the sweet aroma of the knowledge of Him in every place. For we are a fragrance of Christ to God among those who are being saved and among those who are perishing; to the one an aroma from death to death to the other an aroma from life to life. And who is adequate for these things? For we are not like many, peddling the word of God, but as from sincerity, but as from God, we speak in Christ in the sight of God.   

So, God uses us to spread the smell of Jesus "in every place".
We are a fragrance of Jesus, ultimately to God, in the world.
We represent Him, acting as little puffs of perfume or the smell of cows, depending. We spread the aromas of death or life to those whom we're around.

We will be known by our smell. Jesus will be known by our smell. We have been given the role of ambassadors of Jesus Christ to the rest of the world (Second Corinthians 5). Through us, people will see Him.

Instantly, I think of my life. I think of the interactions I have with co-workers, with people I see every day. And I wonder, What do they SMELL? And more importantly, Do THEY KNOW what they're smelling? Because they might very well see that oh, I don't curse. But do they know why? Do they know that the most important thing in my life is Jesus?

I sat there for a little while with the cursor blinking after that last sentence, just thinking.

Do they smell Jesus? 

For Granted

(written 15 June 2012)

No matter what would have happened, our baby belonged to the Lord and not to us.

It's easy to think that you have control of a situation, even if in the back of your head, you know God has it all in His hands. I'm sure parents are reminded that their children are in God's care and not theirs constantly and have to trust God to protect and lead their kids after His ways. But I'm sure that they forget too. In my desire for this child, I asked God why. I still wonder why:

Why did you take my baby, God? 

But it wasn't really mine. That baby was always in the hands of the Lord. Whether it lived a long life here on earth or went to be with the Lord before it took a single breath, that baby wasn't mine. It was entrusted to me for a short time. It was my job to take care of the baby by making sure that I was getting enough rest, enough to eat, enough exercise, no caffeine and all sorts of other things that I was realizing daily. I was supposed to be a good steward by caring for that child in my womb but I never owned it. The Lord knit that baby together, not me.

I didn't have control over this baby at all. I hoped that we would have a perfect newborn in about seven months from now, but the truth is that leading up that point would mean nine months of letting God grow a baby in me. That would mean nine months of what-ifs and hands-on lessons in trusting God. And then the baby would be in the real world and I would worry about that child until my last breath. At no point was that baby's life in my control.

I'm not saying that the only reason I lost the baby was to teach me a lesson. It's just that so far, I've come face-to-face with the reality that not only is my life not my own (I Corinthians 6:19-20), but that baby's life wasn't mine either.

I tend to take the control of a situation for granted. To think that, for example, this is MY baby and that God is somehow doing me a favor by keeping it safe and healthy in my body. In reality, God had given me that child at that time for His perfect purpose. And my baby is safe and healthy. It will never know the sin and suffering of this world, only what it is like to live in the presence of God Himself.
In this situation, I am astounded by the power and might of God.

I shouldn't take anything for granted.

The Story of Easter

I was trying to think of how to best write about Easter. But then I remembered that I'd taken pictures of our Kid's Club play/skit (what's the difference between a skit and a play?). 

 There were no costumes and they just acted out what the narrator said on the fly, so it may be a little hard to understand; I'll caption it as we go. 

So I thought that I'd just let those be my words about Easter.

Jesus riding through Jerusalem on a donkey... people threw their coats on the ground in honor of Him and shouted "Hallelujah!" 

Jesus and His disciples had Passover dinner together. He informed them that one of them would betray Him that night. The disciples couldn't believe it!

Judas left to betray Him.

The disciples continued to eat and drink as Jesus explained the significance of the bread and wine. 

(the rest of the "cast" is off to the side)

Jesus took His disciples to the Mount of Olives and as He went off to pray, He told them to keep watch. They fell asleep. 

"Why did you fall asleep?"

Jesus was betrayed by Judas into the hands of Roman officials

Peter cut the servant's ear off; Jesus healed it.

Jesus was tried before Caiaphas 

Peter denied Jesus three times

Jesus was tried before Pontius Pilate

Pilate asked the people if they wanted Barabbas or Jesus released 

Jesus was beaten and a purple robe placed on His back

They mocked Him and pretended to fall down in worship

Simon carried the cross for Jesus

Jesus was nailed to the cross

On either side were two thieves.

The sky turned dark. Jesus died.  

Joseph of Arimathea took the body away

Jesus' body was placed in a tomb, with a stone rolled in front of it 

On the first day of the week, women came to anoint the body. They found that the guards were fallen down. An angel explained that Jesus was not there: HE IS RISEN! 

They ran to tell the others. 

After that, Jesus appeared to the disciples and to more than 500. Then He ascended into Heaven.

The end! 

Except it isn't the end. Because of Jesus' death and His resurrection, we may live. 

Happy Easter. 

The Importance of Being Honest

(Perhaps the title will make sense as you read)

This (school) year, I have been spending one afternoon a week with other people's rather undisciplined children. It's something of an after-school program put on by my church where we hang out with the kids and talk to them about Jesus. That's the gist of it anyway.

So anyway, I was sitting on the floor during worship, which was sort of a pain on this particular day. A fifth-grade girl was going through a fifth-grade girl sort of drama, which meant that her friends gathered around to hear her woes. About 25% percent of the group was singing along or remotely focused on the hand motions. The rest were running to the bathroom one more time, laughing about how childish it is to do hand motions (we all go through that stage, I think), or joined in the little circle of drama.

I rolled my eyes. Inwardly of course... I guess it's more acceptable to do it inwardly.

And then it came. That little thought.

At first the thought was my own, something like: "WHY WILL THESE CHILDREN NOT PAY ATTENTION?????"

And very shortly after that, possibly interrupting that thought, I realized that so, so often, I am JUST like that. (but I should know better)

I'm there, at church or during my quiet time, but then I get distracted. It's a little thing: an item to add to the grocery list, a forgotten sock on the floor to put away, a completely different thought altogether that has me reading words on a  page but so lost in my own thought that I have no comprehension.

Whatever that thing is, I realized that very often...
Okay,  I would venture to say all the time, my focus is anywhere but where it should be. And that should is on Jesus, on the gospel, on the things of God.

For all my good intentions, all my opinions on what people should be doing or how they should behave during an after school program for children, I fail to hold myself to the same standard. I fail to practice what I preach. I fail to judge myself as I've judged others.

"Oops!" isn't exactly the thing to say here. I'm uncertain as to what SHOULD be said. Something profound, I guess. Something to make you say, "Hmmmm" as if you're deep in thought and deeply convicted.

I can't come up with something to meet that criteria, so I'll just say this:

1. I pray that you, the person reading this, are able to look at my failure to focus on Christ as I ought and think "Whew! I need to stop and see if I'm doing the same thing", because I don't want you to find yourself guilty of putting things (even tiny ones) in front of Him. I pray that you are HONEST before the Lord in this. 
2. I hope that you are encouraged that you aren't the only one. 
3. I ask that you will pray for me and for your fellow believers, that we remain focused in our walks. 
4. And finally, please (please please please) do pray for those kids. Yes, they can be frustrating. But they come from some rotten home backgrounds. Most of them have unsaved parents and don't know Jesus themselves. Pray that they would know Him through this little ministry thing once a week and for the families they return to each day. Pray for the leaders, that we would be understanding and patient and loving, presenting Christ to them as a pleasant aroma.

But thanks be to God, who in Christ always leads us in triumphal procession, and through us spreads the fragrance of the knowledge of him everywhere. For we are the aroma of Christ to God among those who are being saved and among those who are perishing, to one a fragrance from death to death, to the other a fragrance from life to life. Who is sufficient for these things? (II Corinthians 2:14-16)

a conclusion to this chapter

It's hard to re-cap this summer's trials and triumphs in a short post, so I won't. You don't have to read this, but I'm writing to record all that the Lord has done in our lives this summer. 

This summer, we made a decision that involved Carson moving three hours away to pursue wildland fire-fighting while I stayed on in Spokane, took classes and worked with the church. We made this decision in February or March, several months out from the separation actually taking place.

It's great to plan ahead, but perhaps better to think through those decisions.

As you know, I cried like Carson was never coming back. I had no idea that I had so many tears stored up, no clue that I would be so emotional. He says he cried too (but I think he means that he was just sad). We quickly realized that we had made a decision that was good in theory (making more money this summer for school) but not our wisest. We were stuck in this situation because he was committed to work for the Forest Service and I was committed to take summer classes, do VBS, and various other commitments.

The plan was for him to be gone June - October or November, depending on when the fire season ended.

And then... he broke his foot on July 24. He was running with the guys on his crew and must have tripped or something. He thought it was "just sprained" so he kept running. I thought running on a sprained foot was bad for you, but either way, he kept going for a few miles and then it started to hurt horribly, so he went back. He got the day off work and went to the doctor in the morning. His foot was BROKEN. That night, he drove to Olympia with his foot in a boot and hobbling around on crutches.

The infamous cripple :(

So what's next?
We have prayed so much about the next step. Carson was given the opportunity to audit two language classes through Moody that will give him more advantage in his graduate studies, the classes beginning August  23. He was offered a job by a friend at church. It seemed that in all of our prayers, the Lord was leading Carson back to Spokane at the end of August.

Am I happy about this? 
Well, obviously! I am thrilled that we'll be together and convinced that absence DOES make the heart grow fonder. We've gotten closer (or at least more similar in mindset) during our separation and that's been so great!

Was the summer hard? 
Yes. But as I've said to a lot of people, I was very busy. Carson was the one who probably took it hardest - he had lonely nights and weekends whereas I was surrounded by friends. He worked Sundays and missed out on fellowship while I live with solid, amazing people and go to a fabulous church. I'm not saying I didn't miss him - I do, and I've noticed that I don't sleep as well when he's gone (even though I've had two roommates this summer).

How was the summer good?
The six classes I was able to take, helping teach for VBS, spending time with friends, going to Pennsylvania, going to see Carson twice (and him visiting also), living with two wonderful girls (Josie and Erica), going to two weddings... but I would say that most of all, we've both grown spiritually.

Growth
I can see it in Carson more than in myself. He's had a hard time being alone over there, his only company the neighbor's dog (which he befriended by sneaking her sausage dogs...knew he'd be a sucker for dogs after all). But the Lord has definitely used this time in his life. He's done a LOT of reading - philosophy, history, literature, languages - and is always excited to share his findings. He has a ton of time to read Scripture and pray, and the quietness of the setting he's in at night certainly lends to his getting to read and meditate. He's become more driven (if that's possible), more intentional, more gentle when we're together, more patient, more understanding, quicker to listen, to encourage, and to share his love for me.

Most of all, I've seen him grow in his acceptance of "the foot thing". He was so excited to go and fight fires, hoping to go on assignment and be active all summer, and then a pesky little bone had to go and break. But all the Lord had been doing in his life was evident as he confirmed that he was totally fine with the break, trusting God for the next step.


Letters
We wrote letters back and forth and while mine are basically a play-by-play written the way I talk, happy and cheery, his are rather wordy, eloquent and even romantic. Comparing the letters makes me laugh. He addresses his to me in a different way each time on the envelope ("The Beautiful Redhead"; "Lindsay, daughter of David, of the Island of Browns") and seals each one with a wax seal. He did the same during our long-distance summer of dating, and I absolutely love it. I need a box for these letters. I'm sentimental and don't want to lose them.

Prayer
If you're wondering how to pray, here are some specifics: Since Carson has been gone for about a week short of three months, getting used to living life together is going to be strange. The dynamics are different since his work schedule isn't crazy and I'm not working but going to school full-time. But learning to live together has already proved to be strange. We've lived "alone" (I had roommates) for the summer, and the time before that was honestly not super scheduled so we didn't have a routine at all. I'm looking forward to having that pattern to our days. Please pray for us to figure it out and to grow closer!

What about the next chapter?
This fall, Carson will work full-time, audit a second year of Greek and a first year of German (his job has really flexible hours that allow for the classes AND will allow him to be home at night!). I will not be working, but taking classes full-time. We'll continue to live in the Reilly Building, clean the church and do ministry with CTR. Carson is applying to graduate programs right now but we probably will not have news on that until March. I intend to graduate in May of next year and in the summer following, will complete my internship requirements (couldn't this summer because of classes). We will probably move next summer after finding out where we'll get to go for grad school.
This could very well be our last year in Spokane, but we know that the Lord is the one who determines our steps.

Or in Carson's case, our crutches :)

Where Are Your Eyes?

I find myself often looking ahead.

This isn't a bad thing; it's perfectly fine (and often smart) to plan ahead.
And looking ahead while, say, driving, is the best thing to do.

But I'm talking about the looking ahead and wishing the present weren't the present.

Last year at this time, I was engaged. We were engaged for nine months, which is fairly average, I believe. But it's also a pretty long time. During that time, I moved twice, attended a semester of school, worked a couple of jobs, lived on both sides of the state and oh, planned a wedding. It was a busy time. It was a transitional stage, which was quite often not the best of places to be.

I struggled quite a bit with discontent during that stage of life. I guess it was pretty obvious that that would happen, given the fact that Carson lived six hours away from the months of January through April, and then 3,000 miles away from April till we got married in May. I got tired of thinking of weddings and wanted to just start the life we'd been talking about for nine months. Talking about something and waiting to do it gets old really fast. (side note: I really respect the people who have dated/been engaged longer than I did/was because I have no idea how they did it.)

This year, I'm married. And I do love the life we're living. The apartment, the people I'm around, the church family we are a part of, the school community. Seriously, we've got it made.

And wouldn't you know it, I still struggle with discontent:
"I love this life... but..."

It's the "but" that's the problem. The little areas where I'm not satisfied, not 100% okay with what I've been given. They're so small but terribly tricky.

And for the sake of transparency, here are a few:
...but I wish I had the time to run more. I really do. I love running but running before work is ew. And running after? I'm tired and it's dark.
...but I see my friends who are pregnant and a part of me really desires that. Yes, really, Mom and mother-in-law and people who are praying for this to happen. (there's also that part that screams with reminders of my own childishness)
...but I wish Carson and I had more time together. Our schedules are not optimal. And for this being our first year of marriage, perhaps we shouldn't have committed ourselves to so much... oh well... live and learn.
...but I want to be near _____ (friends and family who live really far away and I haven't seen and won't see for a long time)

These things aren't bad.

But these things are NOT where God has me right now. It's not the life I have been given, so there's no point in trying to live in hope for that.
Right now, my hope should be in Christ.
I should live in light of what He's done for me.
I should be thankful for the abundant blessings given to me.
I should praise Him for being so faithful.

I have not one thing to complain about (except too much stuff... bummer... being so provided for?). Not one thing to express discontent about.

I'm human. I'll find things to wish for and get upset about, but where are my eyes looking? Toward Him or toward what I want?

(and do I really want to answer that question?)

rest

I'm sitting in front of a window looking at the sky, painted  with watercolored shades of blue and yellow. The sun gleams over the edges of clouds (I always think it looks like heaven when it does that). It's a peaceful Tuesday night sunset and yes, I'm enjoying it with a computer in front of me, but I'm pleased to be enjoying it at all. 

Things have been so busy lately. Nothing out of control or awful, just little time for the quiet. 

Lately, I have discovered that I need the quiet. I need the downtime it provides, the rest and sleep, the ability to get things done that are just background, small things... quiet is something I crave without realizing it. 

{And when I do realize it, it's only after I've gotten really cranky.}

I think we were created for these down times. To enjoy a sunset in a quiet house. To sip coffee or tea when no one is around. To spend time digging in a garden for some, reading a book for others, and perhaps even taking a nap. These times of rest can be worshipful as we enjoy the creation we've been given. 

We can also enjoy the Creator through the fact that we get super tired (and yes, cranky) when we don't have those moments. We were made not just to be alone but to take time off. God Himself worked for six days and then took a rest on the seventh. I'm pretty sure God doesn't get tired (He's invincible!) but He made that space in time to rest for a moment. 

As Christians, it's a little hard to argue with the fact that since God rested, we should follow that model. 

Yes, that was the excuse for a nap that you were looking for. To cancel what you weren't looking forward to doing tonight because you've been DOING for as long as you can remember. To let the dishes soak while you go enjoy the sunset. 

Maybe rest is just what you need... a little focus on Him, a little breath of air in the middle of your 9-5? 

Along with all that He created, I'd agree that is is good.

:)

NOT what I'm looking at right now... this was taken on our honeymoon. If you need to, click on it to make it big and soak up the peaceful feel of this picture :D

Line Leader

When you were little, were you ever chosen to be line leader?

The line leader is the person the teacher has selected as best listener. This special individual has been noticed for sitting down, following directions, keeping hands in their lap, and not talking when the teacher is speaking. Line leader is an important distinction. You stand proud as you walk to the lunch room, leading your classmates down the hall.

I use this example for two reasons. The first is because five days a week, I see this carried out. Three times a day, we form a line to snack and lunch and someone is chosen to lead the group. With head held high, the line leader carries out his or her duty with excellence and a certain amount of pride.

Secondly I use it because it is a reminder. To be the line leader is to be different from everyone else. You're one of them, but you were the only one chosen to lead. Might we say set apart? Chosen?

Last night Carson and I were studying Colossians 3:12 - "So as those who have been chosen of God, holy and beloved, put on a heart of compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience."

"Because you have been given a distinction [salvation, line leader :)] act this way..."

We got some specifics out of it too but I thought I'd share that little story and illustration with you :)

I Kissed My Ideals Goodbye, Part 2

[click here for part one]

So as previously mentioned, I had pretty well-formed thoughts on dating, courtship, and the like. In retrospect, it was a little like setting your parenting ideals on the table before your first child is born. Lofty goals, but without an ounce of experience.

You may remember that something dear to my heart was the idea of the family sitting around the kitchen table laughing and making memories while bonding with my future husband. It seemed only right that "he" would be a person I had known for forever, respected and trusted as a friend first.

Enter Carson: A man I had not known for years, did not know my family, and definitely had not sat at my kitchen table.

I'm going to add in here that my ideals have a lot to do with the fact that I am a firstborn. I get something in my head and there is no one who is going to take that away from me.

Carson Bay did not know this about me.

(He knew I was a firstborn because one of his roommates was in my speech class in which we gave biographical speeches and that loving friend recounted all my information to Carson. But he did not know that he was dealing with such a stubborn individual.)

I accepted his first offer, which was to be his date to the spring formal. My reasoning was because you just couldn't say no without a reason. That would be entirely too rude.

When he got obtained my phone number (a true mystery to me... I hadn't included that in any speech), he called me to see if I would be interested in coffee. I demurely replied that I did not think it was a good idea. He, also being a firstborn, gave me several reasons why it was.. I didn't buy it and again refused.

And then tried my darndest to ignore the guy. Meanwhile, he pursued with all his might. Our story is really one of persistence, his trying to get me and my trying to "not lead him on" (because he was not the long-time-family-friend of my dreams).

He won, as you might well assume. Two weeks after that spring formal, we had a conversation in which we calmly told one another that we thought it would work for us to get married. It was a conversation oddly devoid of emotion for being about marriage and a future together.

He called my dad the next day (after he had talked to me... there went one ideal... but then again, how else would he get his phone number?). That evening, over coffee, we...

Started dating. Not courting. Dating.
One thing I've realized... the terms kind of coincide. But I've always pictured courting as more of a "family hangs out with the guy" thing and dating as a "family meets the guy after there's a relationship" thing... and so I call it dating. In reality, it doesn't matter. It's just a term thing, right?

He would sometimes come over and hang out with me and my roommates, but that was as family-oriented as it got. We were often unsupervised, unchaperoned, as we visited an Arboretum, went to lunch, went for walks, and sat under a tree at school, talking. It was not what I had envisioned. We even held hands once in awhile. It was wild.

After three months of dating (we dated in Spokane for 3 weeks and then were apart for 2 months), we got engaged.

Three seconds after that (or in that general vicinity), we had our first kiss. We were not married yet. Another ideal, just flushed down the toilet.

[While that was written oh-so-flippantly, I must let you know that none of it was actually done in that manner. The dating a boy I had not known for years and years scared me to death. I prayed about it like there was no tomorrow. The holding hands was discussed. The kiss before marriage was discussed.] 

One of the biggest things being in a relationship taught me was that I had been locking my ideals up in an iron castle. I had made things that weren't so big out to be non-negotiables, and not even considered things that were actually of importance.
The decisions we made while dating were made after lots of prayer and a considerable amount of discussion. We both tend to be over thinkers so that wasn't very hard for us.

Throughout my life, one of the bigger things God has had to "talk" to me about has been my setting my ideals above everything else, often including seeking Him in prayer on the issue.

This was the case initially with Carson... the reason I was deadset against his interest in me was because I was sure that it wasn't the right time. Unfortunately in my certainty, I had failed to consult with the One who created time. Once I prayed about it I realized that perhaps this was something that He had brought about at that specific time for a specific purpose.

I had to trust God and let go of my ideals, which has sort of been the story of my life.

This has really been written because God has been teaching me a thing or two about my ideals (did I not say it was the story of my life?). This whole relationship thing was entirely new to me before Carson and SUCH a good example of how easy it was to set my "I will" and "I will not" plans before the Lord.

It's reminded me that even really good intentions in ideals can become idols if we don't place them before God. And honestly, at least in my case, they could probably ruin relationships.

- Mrs. Bay ;)

I Kissed My Ideals Goodbye, Part 1

When I was in Junior High, I read Joshua Harris' "I Kissed Dating Goodbye".

As a very mature (in my own mind) fourteen year old, I defined several key elements to my own future courtship. That book and its sequel, "Boy Meets Girl" were actually quite influential in my early dating philosophy.

[disclaimer:] I will say this... they're not bad books! And while I think "I Kissed Dating Goodbye" does idealize courtship perhaps a bit too much, I think much of the advice is sound. The book has nothing to do with it other than setting ideas in my head. I made ideals of my own free will. I tend toward making rules on things that are actually more like gray areas... and that's what this post is actually mostly about...

So for several years, I planned to do things the old fashioned way. I would be friends with a boy, he would like me and without my knowledge, speak to my father. He would outline his plans to woo me and wed me, and we would have a lovely little wedding in a small white church, in which we would have our first kiss. During the period of courtship, he would spend Sunday afternoons at my parent's house after church and throw the football with my dad. He would be from the South and our babies would have accents just like him.

Well, I moved away from home at the age of 19 (a year away from my intended "marry by" age, also determined when I was fourteen), thoroughly single. I did have close guy friends, but no marriage proposal kept me home.

By this time, I was actually a bit cynical on the whole relationship thing as a whole, having seen so many broken hearts from both dating relationships and courtships. I liked the idea of getting married, but the pre-marriage, relationship part freaked me out. It was at this time that I decided that I would agree to an arranged marriage. No games, just "Here he is!"

That didn't happen either.

So I was 3,000 miles from home, single, and content in that. Possibly overjoyed in that. Possibly smug and prideful in that. Possibly just about to have my lofty ideals kicked in the face.

Over Christmas break that year my relationship status was discussed. A friend asked me about my single state. I made lovely comments on being content and all sorts of things. I even had a conversation with God about possibly making a vow to not get into a relationship that year... not that I had all sorts of offers that needed turning down, but it was really heavy on my heart. The sign I asked for didn't happen so I didn't make that promise...

...and that turned out to be good. Because just five or so weeks into the semester, a strange guy from two of my classes (who coincidentally happened to be around a lot more), asked me to the spring formal.

My ideals were about to be crushed. I was going to lose a battle.

And to make it even worse, people from Washington don't have Southern accents. No hope for those future children.

...to be continued...

That Conversation in the Car

I work closely with a person that gets on everyone's nerves.

And you can keep reading because I'm not going to talk about why.

Tonight, we had a work meeting. Someone is going to get laid off in the next couple weeks due to lack of enrollment. Just for a month or two, hopefully, but it looks like that's what is going to happen. Pray for that!

Not the point.

After said meeting, I offered to take a co-worker to the Plaza downtown to catch her bus. She agreed, preferring a warm car to a cold, dark bus stop. We began to talk, because even though we do work closely, we don't just sit there and chat. I was enjoying the talk, so I offered to take her all the way home. During the course of the conversation, it came out that she used to be a Christian.

Naturally, I was curious.

Apparently, she's been doing some thinking, processing what she's been brought up to believe, what she knows of the world, the way she wishes things would be...
and all that has lead to calling herself a "Pagan". I've heard the term but honestly thought it just meant a person who didn't believe in anything at all. Shows how much I know.

According to the dictionary (seriously, I didn't know!), a pagan is someone who holds a polytheistic religion... (Note: Polytheistic religions are those that believe in either lots of gods or just more than one... Buddhism, Wiccan...).

So anyway, she's not super sure what she believes, but she's pretty turned off from Christianity. She threw that background away for her current beliefs and has gotten some flack from the  people in her church. She wasn't bitter, just matter-of-fact. I'm sure it would be awful to have been involved in a church and then just be burned by people you thought knew and loved you.

As you probably know by now, this person is the person mentioned in my first sentence. And you know, I'm kind of glad. She doesn't bother me as much as others have claimed that she annoyed them. And I work with her everyday, all day. And we had that long conversation in the car.

So I'm really glad that I do work with her, and that she's not just a random person I'll never see again. But I would like you to pray about this.

Why and what?
That I wouldn't be trying to proselytize: Um, does anyone like someone campaigning for what they believe in such a way that they can't get a breath of fresh air? I think not. I want to lend a listening ear for sure, and a mouth that speaks truth. Not in a way that offends her, but not in a wishy washy manner either. Speaking the truth in love, words seasoned with grace... that kind of thing.

That she would come into contact with the truth, and that it would be clear to her: She's not so sure of what she believes, so when truth hits her, I pray that she is ready to see it as truth. I pray that she will see God as God and His Word as truth, without bias or presupposition or the hypocrisy that yes, sadly does exist among the church.

That Jesus would pursue her: Does He love her? Yes. Does He desire a relationship with her? I have no doubt. Did He possibly put me in such close contact to pray for her and share Him with my life? Maybe! I pray that I would portray a Lord others would want to follow and that maybe they would as a result of me.
It feels way NOT humble to say such a thing, so I also ask that you pray for humility for me. This kind of thing freaks me out a little bit and I get so unsure... pray that I would be in the Word and guided by truth.

Please pray, and ask me about it! My "shyness" can sometimes lead to "being quiet about the important things"!

Back Where I Didn't Want to Be

[alternately titled: "Guess What? I DON'T Know Best"]

Sometimes you pray for something... and it doesn't happen.

Sometimes you think something is God's will... and it doesn't work out.

What to do? Is God a liar? Should you quit praying?

Obviously, the answer to that is a good sound NO. But sometimes it's easy to get a little upset at the one who made the universe:

"God, I really wanted that! THIS is how I hoped that would go!" (like He didn't know)

This is something I experienced this week. You see, retail and I aren't best buddies. I don't mind it so much, but when it comes to selling something, I'm not so great. Being cheerful and kinda fake and making conversation... well, I use the excuse that I was homeschooled and therefore lack the know-how.

So I went to another interview last week (the day after I started my job). They said they'd call Friday or Monday.

We prayed that God would show where I should be. Because the hours at the other job were better, the schedule was more fitting, and the job wasn't something I was uncomfortable doing, I pretty much expected a call back. When the job I currently have didn't call me with my schedule for the week, I thought "Oh how perfect!"

I called job #2 today. Twice. No answer.

Then the phone rang.

"Lindsay? Hey! So here's your work schedule for the week"

...

Maybe God's plan isn't my ideal. Maybe He doesn't have to say "yes" every single time. Maybe, just maybe, prayer isn't about me getting what I want after all.

Maybe I'm going to be selling clothes for a little while.